


The Closest Thing To Home

by patooey



Series: The Unexpected Bagginshield Drabbles [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, Gen, More Fluff, Sickeningly Sweet Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 16:25:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patooey/pseuds/patooey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo is up in his room with a bad cold. And, he admired the strong immunity of dwarves to sickness, if not injury, for none had the same case as he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Closest Thing To Home

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILER ALERT, IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE BOOK.
> 
> But if you did, or don't mind the spoil, then go and enjoy, by all means!
> 
> This takes place after the barrel part. ;)
> 
> Own nothing, get nothing, only a bit of love.
> 
> Thank you for reading as always.

_Foolish is what foolish does._ Bilbo stifled another sneeze with what he calls his “sick-kerchief”. It had been the second day since the healer decided that he should be confined to his quarters for five days. _Five days, while the others eat and drink and are merrily gallivanting or what not,_ he grudgingly thought as he heard distant roaring laughter from the lower floor of the house they were staying in. The barrel-ride on the ForestRiver had been a very brilliant plan, until he realized that he had forgotten to put himself into a barrel, and was forced to barely cling on to one as the current rocked and carried them away from the Elevenking’s shadowy Mirkwood and into Lake-Town, where they had found temporary safe haven. Bilbo, not being in a barrel, had been soaked most of all and caught the worse case of cold, alongside a few scrapes and bruises. He admired the strong immunity of dwarves to sickness, if not injury, for none had the same case as he did. As poor Mister Baggins managed a huff to loosen the heaviness in his chest from difficulty of breathing, from the door came two solid knocks. While wondering who it was, Bilbo struggled to call out his best, welcoming “Cobe id!”

A crank of doorknob, a creak of door hinges and a thud of dwarven boots after, Thorin came into view. The hobbit was genuinely surprised because he saw that the King of the Mountain himself had come to bring his meal of rich chicken soup, slices of freshly-baked wheat loaf and a whole shiny apple, all balanced atop a tray which he held with only an arm.

“Supper, Master Baggins.” Thorin announced in a rich baritone as he entered the room, closed the door behind him and slowly walked towards Bilbo’s bed, setting the tray carefully on the invalid’s lap as the other propped himself up to sit.

“Why? You shuddub have…” Bilbo protested but was immediately silenced by a stare from Thorin, one part threatening and two parts caring. The dwarf proceeded to sit on the edge of his bed as he witnessed an epic sneeze from Bilbo, chuckling lightly as the latter vigorously wiped his nose.

“But you have saved our lives one too many times already. Let us, let _me_ repay you with this simple gesture.” Even with his humbling words, Bilbo thought of Thorin as kingly, royal albeit in non-descript garb. The dwarf smiled, vibrant blue eyes twinkling in the firelight. The bringing-the-sick-supper gesture was humble enough, alright, until Thorin inched closer to Bilbo, close enough for the hobbit to feel the warm breath on his forehead, followed by an achingly tender kiss. Bilbo closed his eyes, and allowed himself be washed with waves of comfort, of warmth, of desire. _So this was the gesture he was referring to…_ Yet it seemed to be perfect that moment. Both wished to linger long enough, but Bilbo was overcome with a fit of coughing and had to break off contact, much to Thorin’s amusement.

“It is best I take my leave now, for the company might be looking for me.” Thorin ran a hand through Bilbo’s golden curls and caressed his cheek before standing up and taking furtive steps towards the door. Bilbo watched, flushed and a bit dumbfounded as Thorin opened the door and slid halfway through. “Rest well, my Halfling.” The dwarf spoke with his back turned, then slid completely out and closed the door softly. It was a few heartbeats after Bilbo recovered from the gesture and all its implications.

Warm supper being brought in by Thorin;

The kiss;

_My Halfling._

Bilbo felt it was the closest thing he had to home in a long time.


End file.
